


Stay and Fight

by customarycreate



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Gun Violence, Happy Ending, school shooting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-11-02 03:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20611709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/customarycreate/pseuds/customarycreate
Summary: Will you plant flowers on my grave for those who have none?A fic dedicated to all those who have experienced school shootings, and to those who didn't survive.Peter had dealt with guns before, Spider-Man regularly stopped muggings and shoot-ups alike. But never, never did he think that he would have to deal with them as Peter Parker.





	Stay and Fight

**Author's Note:**

> I don't mean to take school shootings lightly, and I definitely don't want to use them for merely entertainment purposes. This piece of work is dedicated to all those who have been affected by school shootings, and even guns in general. I believe that guns should not be accessible as they currently are, and this fic aims to show the consequences of this fact.  
If you are at all triggered by gun violence or school shootings, I recommend you don't read, or at least read at your own discretion. The violence isn't incredibly graphic, and there are no mentions of blood or anything, but someone does get shot in this fic. Please stay safe.

Peter did not want to go to school today.  
  
  
From the moment he woke up he knew today would be bad. The light drifting in dimly from his window pierced his eyes, causing an ache to echo around his head. The sound of cars floors below crowded his hearing until he couldn’t stand listening to it anymore. The bed sheets felt scratchy and rubbed against his skin in a way that irritated him to no end. His lungs couldn’t get enough air into them, it felt like he was drowning…  
  
  
“Peter,” May called out, frowning when the boy replied with a cry of pain. “Peter!”  
  
  
She barged into his room, freezing when she saw his form hunched over himself, hands covering his ears as he rocked back and forth. “Make it stop, make it stop!”  
  
  
Immediately recognising the symptoms, May grabbed his earphones off his nightstand, along with his sunglasses. Kneeling down in front of him, she gingerly held out the items for him to grab. “Hey, Peter.” He relaxed as soon as he had put the earphones in, but he placed the sunglasses on his face as well, for extra relief. Even though he looked much better than before, May knew her nephew enough to understand he was still recovering. “Can I touch you? Or is it still too much?” He shook his head roughly, indicating that he still could not handle contact. “That’s okay. Do you feel up to going to school? You can stay home if you want.”  
  
  
He shook his head once again. “Mr,” he stuttered over his words. “Mr Dancor, chemistry test, worth 30%, doesn’t like me already. He wouldn’t let me resit.”  
  
  
“Honey,” she had to remind herself that Peter still couldn’t handle contact, and so even though she longed to pull him into her arms, she didn’t. “I’m sure if there was a medical reason, he would let you off?”  
  
  
“No,” he said, his voice finally strong enough to break through. “I need to go today. See, I’m already so much better!” He lifted the sunglasses off his face, wincing slightly before his eyes got used to the lights. “I’ll be fine.”  
  
  
And with that, he took off to get ready for the day. She looked back at him, doubtful about his wellbeing, but May had learned one thing while raising Peter; no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t change his mind about somethings.  
  
  
And so, she waved him goodbye as he left for school, looking much better than he did when he woke this morning. Still, her stomach twisted and turned, and she was sure she had made a mistake in sending him off to school.  
  
  
OoOoOoO  
  
  
Peter knew he probably shouldn’t have gone to school today. But for some reason, the thought of not going to school made him sick to the stomach.  
  
  
And in all fairness, as soon as he started on his journey to school, he started to feel better. Sure, his head was still pounding, and the clothes rubbing against his skin still irritated him to no end, but he no longer winced at the bright sun, or the disruptive nature of the New York streets. He was fine.  
  
  
However, throughout the day, the feeling in his stomach worsened. The hairs on his arms began to stand up. His senses weren’t yet overwhelmed, but they were close. Something told him to constantly watch behind him.  
  
  
“Maybe it’s a spider thing,” Ned whispered to him at lunch. “Remember that time you could sort of sense something bad was going to happen and then Flash came and tripped you?”  
  
  
Peter held his head in his hands. “Then this something must be really bad, I haven’t felt this terrible since I first got my powers.”  
  
  
Ned furrowed his eyebrows, “Maybe you should go home Peter, no need for you to stay at school when you feel so bad.”  
  
  
The other boy lifted his head. “You have met Mr Dancor, right? You know he’s not going to take that for an excuse.”  
  
  
“He will if you get a doctor’s note.” Ned pushed.  
  
  
Peter shook his head. “No, I only have two periods left anyway, I can make it. And then I won’t even patrol tonight, I’ll go straight home after school.”  
  
  
“Wow, you’re skipping patrol? You must be feeling sick.” Ned mused. Peter gave him an annoyed look, groaning as the bell went off. His head rang from the loud sounds, making his already bad headache worse. “If you insist Peter, but I told you so if you end up puking on the exam paper.”  
  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Peter waved him off. As the two entered the classroom with their peers in tow, Peter couldn’t help but listen as his heart beat faster, and faster, and faster.  
  
  
The clock continued to tick, the sound deafening in his ears. He tried to focus on the paper in front of him, asking about the structure of a compound, or something. The ticking continued, louder and louder, as his heart beat faster and faster. Two rows away, he could hear his classmate rubbing out a mistake on their page, the sound of pencils scratching into paper, the tapping of fingers and breathing and…  
  
  
Everything went silent. Peter snapped his head up, confused. The clock was still ticking, people were still writing, but he couldn’t hear any of it. Just as he turned to Ned (to subtly let him know of the weird situation), the whole world stilled.  
  
  
Footsteps. Footsteps coming down the hallway. They were frantic. The person was running. They paused directly outside of his classroom. Then, the cock of a gun…  
  
  
“Run!” He barely was able to let the word out before the door swung open with a loud BANG!  
  
  
People raced to hide themselves, whether it was under the desk or in the corners of the room. But at the sight of the gun in the intruder’s hand, everything stopped.  
  
  
Peter’s thoughts raced a hundred miles per hour. No one dared speak, lest they disrupt the misleading peace and quiet of the room, but Peter could hear their heart beats, their frantic breaths, the way a girl in the back of the room was sobbing.  
  
  
Michael Bryant stood at the door of the classroom, a gun held in his trembling hands. There were tears running down his cheeks, but his face was moulded into an angry scowl.  
  
  
Swallowing, Peter stepped forward, arms raised in the air. He froze as Michael turned the gun to point at his chest. The fear coursed through his veins. He knew his body shook. ‘Come on Peter,’ he scolded himself. ‘You’re Spider-Man.’ Peter wasn’t inexperienced when it came to guns. Spider-Man encountered guns occasionally on his patrols. Not often, but enough that he had more experience than most of his classmates. However, without his suit, or Karen to guide him, Peter felt exposed. Nevertheless, he started to speak.  
  
  
“Hey Michael,” he paused when the other boy’s finger twitched on the trigger. Peter tried to calm his voice into a more soothing tone. “What are you doing?”  
  
  
Michael was in the grade below Peter in school. However, that hadn’t stopped him from becoming victim to Flash’s teasing. Soon enough, more people joined in, and Michael became the school’s favourite bullying target. Peter knew the struggle the younger boy endured, and so would often sit and talk with him, just to let him know he wasn’t alone.  
  
  
He never thought it would escalate to this.  
  
  
“Shut up, Parker,” the boy shook, his voice shaking with every breath. “You’re the only person in this goddamn school who ever gave a crap about me. You’re not the one I want.” He aimed his gun instead at Flash, who had pushed everyone out of the way until he was at the very back of the classroom. The people surrounding him ducked, fear portrayed clearly on their faces. “Flash made my life a living hell, I thought it only appropriate to send him to the real one.”  
  
  
Peter held his breath as the gun remained aimed at Flash’s chest. The boy in question trembled, his breathing growing faster as the gun didn’t move.  
  
  
“You don’t have to do this!” Peter exclaimed, reaching a hand out. Peter’s desk was the closest to the door, and so he could almost take another step and reach out to touch Michael. “l know how you’re feeling, trust me, I know,” he breathed out, his heart still beating furiously. His main priority was to calm Michael down, and convince him to let go of the gun, however he also needed to make sure Michael didn’t shoot anyone before he got to that point. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his classmates’ terrified faces. “But Flash doesn’t deserve to die, no one deserves to die. You don’t want to do this!”  
  
  
Michael growled, before straightening his aim. “I do want to do this. Flash needs to pay for his crimes.”  
  
  
“But it’ll be you going to jail!” He pressed. Peter was desperate. As much as he didn’t like Flash (he had been a victim of his taunting as well), the boy didn’t deserve the fate Michael was presenting. “Michael, please, just drop the gun.” When the boy didn’t relent, Peter pushed even more. “Michael, please, drop the –”  
  
  
Peter choked. He stared into the terrified eyes of the younger boy, who’s hands had directed the gun in Peter’s direction. He pulled his shaking hands to touch at the pain in his abdomen, gasping out a cry when they made contact. His mind went blank, obviously going into shock.  
  
  
With another cry, Peter fell to the floor, gasping and wheezing in pain. He barely registered the sound of a gun hitting the floor, as his attacker took two hesitant steps back. He barely registered the sound of sirens finally arriving to the school. And he barely registered the cries coming from his classmates.  
  
  
But Ned’s hand underneath his head? That registered in his mind extremely clearly.  
  
  
“Come on, come on. Pete come on. Stay with us, stay with us. Oh, what do I do, what do I do, what do I do? Someone, get help! Please!”  
  
  
Peter could feel a burning sensation right above his hip. He lay there, drifting in and out of consciousness, as he listened to the frantic cries of the people around him.  
  
  
He always knew he would one day get shot, it’s an occupational hazard. While he always stayed fairly low to the ground, every so often he would encounter muggings or otherwise gun-related crimes that needed Spider-Man to help de-escalate. He never really thought it would happen in school. He was supposed to be safe at school. It was where he went to be distracted from the violence he saw every day.  
  
  
He always knew he might get shot as Spider-Man, but never as Peter. Peter was only a civilian. Just like…  
  
  
Ben.  
  
  
Ben had been shot. Peter had watched it happen, saw the bullet pierce him. And now, Peter would die just as his uncle did; in civilian’s clothes, trying to save someone.  
  
  
Poor Aunt May.  
  
  
‘You’re not going to die!’ A part of himself screamed. ‘You can’t! Who’s going to be Spider-Man? Who’s going to protect the streets of New York?’  
Peter wanted to hold on, he really did. But he was so tired.  
  
  
The shouts and cries that had filled the room quieted down. White began to overtake his sense. In the distance, he could see a man walking towards him.  
  
  
“Uncle Ben?” He gasped out.  
  
  
The older man smiled and placed a hand upon his shoulders. “Hey Pete.”  
  
  
“What are you doing here? You’re dead!” Peter looked around, before realising, “Am, am I dead?”  
  
  
“Not yet,” Ben answered. “Not yet. Peter, you get to choose. Are you going to fight? Or,” he gestured to the white space around them. “Are you going to stay here?”  
  
  
Peter let out a sob, his body trembling as tears rolled down his cheeks. “Uncle Ben, I’m just so tired. I’m so sore, and so tired.”  
  
  
“Peter, are you going to stay and fight?”  
  
  
He calmed down slightly, breathing in deeply. “I know I should. I know I need to.”  
  
  
Ben smiled. “Do what you want to do.”  
  
  
Peter nodded his head, smiling at Ben for the last time. “I’ll fight. I wanna fight.”  
  
  
Slowly, as if treading through water, Peter could hear the sounds of the classroom again.  
  
  
Through the static and white surrounding him, he could feel a presence to his side. “You’re going to be okay, okay honey? Come on, just stay and fight for me.” He looked at the woman in confusion. “That’s right honey, can you hear me?” He nodded his head slowly, wincing at the pain shooting down his hip. “Alright, you’re gonna be just fine, you hear me? You just gotta stay and fight.”  
  
  
He nodded once again, smiling despite the situation. He can stay and fight, he’ll stay and fight.


End file.
